I just don't like blogging the hard times, and well, I've been having hard times. I wanna be the funny girl with the snappy wit and the perfectly timed f-bomb. Not the girl who comes back three months later to report that she gained back the thirty pounds she lost and that once again, it's back to square one. Unfortunately, that's me today. Well, pretty close. I'm at 394.8, which puts me pretty firmly back to the beginning.
Four antidepressants and two sleeping pills and thirty pounds later and here I am again. Maybe a little worse for wear, but still here. I guess I'm a little upset that my magic pills didn't make me "normal." I still have the compulsion to overeat all the time and spend the day in my pajamas and only get off the couch when I TOTALLY HAVE to. I'm still me. For better and for worse. The good times are maybe even a little better but the bad times are still pretty fucking terrible, and there's still plenty of them. The older I get, the less magic I believe in. I'm not even sure Magic Johnson ever really had HIV. Publicity stunt!
I got really sad when I found out Garrett died. I don't deal well with death, you know? I spent the last couple months pretty much ignoring all things Blogger and that included most of my blog friends, and for that, I am sorry. Garrett was a really nice guy to me and we talked on the phone pretty often and I got all pissed at myself that I haven't talked to him in a couple months and now I never can again. It pisses me off that his name's still in my cell phone, but I know I can't call.
I went through this for a while when my niece died. She had this shitty modem that would randomly connect and disconnect for no reason. So at 3 in the morning on a Tuesday, I'd be online in my lonely apartment playing online Scrabble against the computer and suddenly my dead niece would sign into MySpace. That never went over well with me. I genuinely miss people when I know they're not there anymore. I don't even know what happened to him. I hope it wasn't anything too terrible. I just know I was really sad and pissed off and now here I am talking about it and feeling weird. That either means therapy's working or not working, so I dunno.
I was talking about it with my therapist today though. I mentioned that I had a hard week because a friend died. I said I didn't know what happened, but I mentioned that we had talked before about our relative obesity. She asked me about how big he was and I said "I don't remember exactly...somewhere just above 500 pounds, I think." She got this wild look in her eyes and said "Isn't it so sad that someone can get to that size?" Uhhh. "It's not all that hard, really, I'm 400 pounds." She said she thought I was around 200 pounds! I could tell she felt bad, I mean, the whole thing was kind of a shitty exchange, but I really wasn't all that offended. I can't expect someone who's probably weighed 95 pounds her entire adult life to understand the concept of 400 pounds. I barely understand it and I live it every day. I think she's a nice lady and she's compassionate about my problems and she just didn't know. I let it go. I didn't wanna talk about him like some number or some lesson to be learned. He was a good friend to a lot of us. It just sucks.
But seriously...200 pounds. Gimme a break, lady!
Anyway...I'll try to update more often. Thank you SO much for all the nice cards and gifts I got in the mail and all the encouraging comments and emails. They made me smile and it's nice to feel like people all over the world care about me even during the weird times that I don't care about myself. Seriously, it means a lot.
Dina, kindly get off my ass now.